‘I will go away,’ said the curate, ‘but tell me first that nothing is wrong--that nothing has happened.’ Elly took a minute or two to recover her breath, which she drew in long inspirations, relieving her heart. ‘Since you are here,’ she said, ‘you may stay, for you have known everything. Nothing wrong? Oh, everything is wrong. But nothing has happened to Aunt Mary, if that is what you mean.’ Mr. Cattley grew very red, and cast a glance at Susie, who on her part sat down quickly, silently, without asking any question, which had its significance. Perhaps she only felt that, as there was evidently no need for bandages she could not have much to do with it, either; perhaps--but it is unnecessary to investigate further. For Elly added, immediately, ‘I have got a letter from Jack, which I don’t understand at all.’ She had recovered her breath. There was an air of defiance and resolution upon her face. She drew her chair into the open space in front of Susie, and challenged her as if to single combat. ‘I want to know,’ she said, ‘from you--I don’t mind Mr. Cattley being there, because he knows us both so well, and has been in it all along. I want to know, from you--is there any reason, any secret reason, that he could find out and did not know before, that could stand between Jack and me?’ Susie looked at her with an astonished face, her mouth a little open, her eyes fixed in wonder. She did not make any reply, but that was comprehensible, for the question seemed to take her altogether by surprise. ‘I don’t think you understand me,’ said Elly, plaintively, ‘and I’m sure I don’t wonder. _You_ know, Mr. Cattley, at least; Jack went away full of his great scheme which was to make him rich, which was to make Aunt Mary’s opposition as much contrary to prudence as it was to--to good sense and--everything,’ cried Elly, ‘for of course the only drawback in it, as everybody must have seen with half an eye, was that I was not good enough for him, a rising engineer, with the finest profession in the world! However, we were engaged all the same. People might say not, but we were--in every sense of the word--I to him and he to me!’ Her face was like the sky as she told her tale, now swept by clouds, now clearing into full and open light. She grew red and pale, and dark and bright in a continued succession, and kept her eyes fixed with mingled defiance and appeal on Susie’s face. ‘Now tell me,’ she said, ‘for you must know--is there anything that Jack could find out that would change all that in a moment? What is there that he could find out that would make him think differently of himself and of every creature? Can’t you tell me, Susie? You are his only sister; you must know, if anyone knows. What is it? What is it? Mr. Cattley, her face is changing too. Oh, for goodness sake, make her tell me! If I only knew, I could judge for myself. Make her say what it is!’